Romancing
by Anonymous033
Summary: "'This is a work blouse,' she scolded. 'If you ruin it, you will have to buy a new one for me.'" Smut. Tiva; one-shot.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own _NCIS._

**Spoilers: **None, but since this is set in the current season, it could reasonably be considered AU. Maybe a future-fic?

**Warnings: **That's M, in capital. I have never been the most explicit of explicit, but it's still not a kiddy-fic, so consider yourselves warned!

**Originally, this was posted only on Tumblr. **I generally keep my M-rated fics there, but because I haven't published anything in a while here (what would be considered "a while" by my standards, anyway), I am also posting it here. Enjoy!

**-****_Soph_**

* * *

**Romancing**

The kiss pressed to the spot just beneath her ear made her giggle, and she lifted a hand to bat away the perpetrator.

"Tony, stop it," she said warningly. "I am trying to watch a movie here."

"So am I," he murmured, but he continued to nuzzle her skin. She tilted her head back—exposing more of her neck to him—intending to let him finish with his show of affection and then continue watching the movie, but it was clear that he had other intentions when his lips began grazing downwards and downwards. With the help of an overeager hand, the sleeve of her blouse was tugged off her shoulder; she yelped as his teeth nipped her lightly.

"This is a work blouse," she scolded. "If you ruin it, you _will _have to buy a new one for me."

"Can't you just show up naked?" he enquired, making her roll her eyes.

"I thought you did not like sharing," she mocked.

He stopped his intimate perusal. "You have a point," he conceded.

She nodded sagely, pulling the sleeve of her blouse back into place at the same time.

For some reason, she'd genuinely thought that he would go back to the movie after that, but his hand began creeping up her blouse instead.

Fingers skimmed across her stomach, and she sucked in a breath. "You are really horny tonight," she commented, and it would have been a lie had she said that her voice was not tinged with huskiness.

"We haven't had sex in two days."

"Yes, but it is not as if we have sex every day in the first place."

She almost missed his next words, given that his palm had stopped right atop her fabric-covered breast. "Maybe I want to start," he said, his words just as suggestive as his gentle squeeze of her flesh, and she wondered what it said about her that she felt a jolt of heat racing towards her core just from such a simple touch.

"Yes," she answered, "but we just came home from work. I am sticky and sweaty—"

"All things I want to make you."

"—and I am not wearing the right clothes—"

"What?" he interrupted, amused, as he removed his hand and sat back to watch her. "What makes you think I want you to be wearing _any _clothes right now?"

She shrugged. "I-I am just saying, it is not—I am not in the right mood for seduction."

"I think you mean _mode of _seduction," he corrected wryly, "because if you ask me, you are in the right mood."

She felt her skin flush. The wetness already on her underwear would probably attest to that, but then again, said underwear was beige and plain and practical, and she and Tony had not progressed to the stage of spontaneous sex yet—or, well, their sex was always spontaneous, but planned in its spontaneity as far as attractiveness went—and she hardly wanted Tony to be un-packaging the grubby, tired, disgruntled employee who had just ended her workday so soon into their relationship.

Call her vain, but she had always wanted to look a little pretty for him.

"You honestly think you need to seduce me, don't you?" Tony asked, breaking her out of her thoughts.

"Seduction is a necessary part of a romantic relationship, yes?" she argued.

He frowned a little in confusion before patting an empty spot on the couch. "Lie down."

It was her turn to be confused. "What?"

"Lie down," he insisted, not heeding her half-hearted protests. His body hovered over hers when she deigned to lie flat, and when his lower half settled onto her, his hardness pressing against her heat, she gasped.

"You have been seducing me for eight years," he whispered to her, his lips barely touching hers. "I'd be hot for you no matter what you were wearing, Ziva."

She was pretty sure her cheeks were pink by now.

She lifted her chin the slightest bit so that their mouths would be firm against each other's. Clearly taking the hint, Tony dove into the kiss, his lips parting to suck on her. She stifled the whimper which would have embarrassed her, had it escaped her lips, but he plunged on undeterred, his tongue merciless in his mission to taste her.

He was easily distractible tonight, it seemed. His mouth could not stay on hers for long. Every so often, it would dip down to press opened-mouthed kisses to her skin; licks to the hollow where collarbone met neck and the curve where neck met jaw. She would breathe hard and try not to completely lose herself when he did that—she had no idea what she tasted like, the stresses of her day mingling with what was purely her scent, but he did not complain, and she found herself being more than turned on by that. His hands roved; up her sides and down her front and under her blouse and under her bra—

She lifted her hips in a silent plea when he massaged her nipples.

Two days was really a long time to wait, even if she had pretended it was not.

She thought her façade probably fell through when she attacked his belt buckle with zest and he grinned at her with a glint in his eye, but she could not care less, only unzipping his pants and pulling him out with a ferocity that surprised her more than it seemed to him.

His eyes fluttered shut when she began to move her hands up and down his shaft. He panted hard when she covered his tip with one palm to play with it; started to shake when she let go and simply traced his length with one finger. When she dipped a hand down to juggle his balls—toy with them like they were hers to possess—the swearing came, intermixed with her name and cries of, "_Ohgodohgod._"

She could feel him tighten impossibly.

It shocked her when he jerked himself out of her hands suddenly, leaning back on his haunches so that he would be out of her reach. Involuntary tears seared her eyelids —perhaps she had had reason to doubt the viability of his idea, after all?—but then he looked up and must have noted something in her expression, because he was resting gingerly atop her again in the next split-second.

"In you," he told her softly, his fingers tangling in her hair. "It's been two days. I wanna be in you when it happens."

She laughed to cover the mortification she felt at her own unneeded insecurity. "That is an overly romanticized idea," she announced with boldness.

"Maybe," he agreed, "but I like being overly romantic when I'm with you."

Call her a sap, but she bought into it hook, line, and sinker.

Her laughter this time was shy, and he smiled in return as he brushed a thumb across her cheek before dipping his head to kiss her on the lips again.

"You are so beautiful," he told her, and her heart fluttered.

He did not remain distracted for long, though.

Returning to his previous intentions, his fingers hooked around the buttons on her blouse. He took his sweet time in undoing them, and she waited impatiently—unable to do more than clench and unclench her hands around his hips—as he worked his way down to the last button. Her blouse undone, he spread it open. His fingers skimmed across the contours of her belly again; stopping right at the edge of her bra, he looked up and held her gaze—

Bent his head—

Pressed his teeth to the fabric—

A second later, the constraint was gone, leaving her breasts free to him.

"Do I want to know where you learnt that?" she asked shakily as he palmed her and squeezed her nipples, and he merely chuckled.

Before too long, he was supporting his weight on his forearms once again, his mouth covering her breast. She moaned as he blew hot, damp air against her. Her hand came up to play with her free breast. She squeezed as he suckled and rubbed as he licked, and when he shifted his weight so that one hand could cover hers, its fingers mingling with hers to touch her, her head spun.

"I need you," she strained to say, "now."

He laughed against her breast. His one hand shifted down to undo her pants, and then he was pushing the black slacks and her underwear down, and she was lifting her hips to assist him.

His cock was against her bare, wet heat before she knew it. "Now," she repeated hoarsely, and he pushed in slowly but steadily. "_Ohhh yesss…_"

"God, Ziva, you're so tight," he breathed.

Her laugh sent reverberations through them. "All for you," she purred, and he visibly swallowed as his eyes landed on hers. The green orbs were dark. Glazed. Shimmering with arousal.

She planted her lips on his. He thrusted hard into her at the same time. His tongue worked at the same pace as his hips, stroking; building the fire between and within them; driving her towards the edge of insanity.

With a grunt, she hooked her legs around his back, changing the angle of his thrust. He moaned gutturally as the next push sent him deeper into her; she keened. He pushed harder to her frantic murmurs of, "_Moremoremore,_" and when he began to slow, she flipped them, taking over easily. She rose and sank rhythmically atop him, relishing how he filled and stretched her depths. The red flush of his cheeks and the way his jaw seemed to clench to keep himself in control caught her attention; with quivering fingers, she reached out to take hold of his wrist, guiding his hand to exactly where she wanted it.

She groaned loudly when his index finger skated over her clit. Her vision blurred when he honed in on her bundle of nerves and started to rub her. Her thrusts were starting to get sloppy, erratic; she could feel her inner muscles pulsing and tensing around his length, intensifying the feeling all the more and getting ready to let everything go.

All of a sudden, he cried out harshly, his hips jolting violently into hers. Warmth flooded her insides and sent tingles through her, spreading through her limbs and going right down to the tip of her toes—the sensation of him coming into her was too much to bear. She fell right into the abyss with him, tumbling through ecstasy towards completion.

Her heartbeat was a fierce rhythm against his chest when she finally came back down to Earth. She turned her cheek into the fabric of his shirt, inhaling deeply; the muskiness that permeated its every thread calmed her and kept her resting on top of him even as their breathing began to slow down.

He was drawing his fingers through her hair. His motions were slow, but she winced when he hit a particularly stubborn tangle. Seemingly unfazed, he merely lifted the hand that had been curved around her waist into her hair instead.

"What are you doing?" she asked when she felt his tugging movements against her scalp.

"Untangling your hair," he answered, and she laughed low in her throat.

"You don't need to do that, Tony," she told him. "I will work it out myself later."

"Nah. I like being romantic, remember?"

She chuckled incredulously. "You think this is romantic?"

"Yeah, I do." His eyes twinkled as he looked down at her, his fingers resuming their course through her now evidently tangle-free hair. "Why, don't you?" he asked.

Call her head-over-heels in love, but she did.


End file.
